


Demons Fear the Color Red

by YZYdragon2222



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Adoption, Boruto and Shinki, Civil War, F/M, Family, M/M, Mental Illness, Middle School Drama, Modern AU, Naruto is the mayor of Konoha, Preteens, Racism, Schizophrenia, papa gaara, papa naruto, suna, they’re good dads, widower
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-23 16:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16622111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YZYdragon2222/pseuds/YZYdragon2222
Summary: Naruto’s life as the mayor of Konoha and widowered father of two isn’t bad.  It’s manageable.  He’s got the undying love and respect of his city.  He’s got a faithful secretary in Shikamaru.  He’s got a responsible babysitter in Konohamaru.  He’s got the two mandatory douchebag best friends in Sasuke and Sakura.  He’s got his children, Boruto and Himawari, whom he loves more than he’s able to comprehend.  And he’s got the memory of Hinata in his mind, every single day.The appearance of an angry foreign boy from Suna in his life sounds like nothing but trouble, but Naruto’s never been one to shy away from trouble.  Subconsciously, he welcomes it, because trouble is a distraction from his own pain.  But he didn’t expect the Suna boy to bring his mentally ill father and the Light back into Naruto’s life.





	1. Different

**Author's Note:**

> Danzo is a dick and I hate him

“Naruto, there’s a call for you,” Shikamaru said.

It was a simple sentence, but Naruto found his heart stuttering painfully for a fraction of a second.  He struggled not to let it show on his face. Shikamaru, his assistant and one of his best friends since childhood, was amazingly, and sometimes rather annoyingly, perceptive; Naruto did not want the intelligent man to badger him later about his reaction, or worse, blame himself for causing it.  There was no reason to make Shikamaru feel guilty for something that wasn’t his fault. It was just that...for a painful moment, Naruto almost thought that the call would be Hinata, phoning in to check on him.

But he was pretty sure that unless Heaven had subscribed to one of AT&T’s shitty wireless phone plans, Hinata wasn’t the caller.

It wasn’t often that Shikamaru would transfer a phone call to Naruto himself.  Naruto was a busy man, perhaps Konoha’s busiest, since he was the mayor. He trusted Shikamaru to take care of most of the callers, whether they be zealous fanatics, petty complainers, or actual contacts of importance. Naruto only had to stop work to actually speak to someone if the caller was an Extremely Important Person, like a big-time sponsor (he honestly hated talking to those, but what choice did he have), or if the call was personal. 

Naruto could tell by Shikamaru’s tone of voice that this call was the latter.  Sakura and Sasuke wouldn’t call him during work hours...Konohamaru was still in school...so who...

“Naruto?”  Shikamaru’s slightly impatient voice knocked him out of his reverie. 

“Right, right.  Sorry, Shik,” Naruto grinned sheepishly.  “Who is it?”

Shikamaru hesitated.  “It’s Boruto.”

“ _Boruto_?”

“Well... _about_ Boruto.”  Shikamaru shrugged, and without divulging any further details into the situation, placed the phone in Naruto’s outstretched hand.

Naruto put the phone to his ear and took a deep breath before opening his mouth.  “Naruto Uzumaki speaking.”

“Mr. Uzumaki, I’m sorry to inform you that your son was involved in a fight with another student.”

* * *

 Naruto sighed deeply as he drove his bright orange car from his office to Alliance Middle School.  It wasn’t the first time Boruto had gotten into trouble at school, but previous instances had been cases of inattentiveness in class, poor grades, or pranks pulled on teachers.  Naruto never thought he’d see the day Boruto get _violent_ with another student.  Mischievous Boruto may be, but the kid wasn’t _malevolent_.  

...And during Boruto’s past misdemeanors, Hinata had still been alive.

 _I really need to stop thinking about her today_ , Naruto thought to himself as he pulled up at the mostly empty parking lot of Alliance Middle School.  It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon; even though Naruto had left his office to come here as soon as he could after receiving the phone call, it had still taken him a while to wrap things up.  School had been out for over an hour by now.  Naruto loved his job, but still he cursed his busy life; he technically wasn’t even supposed to leave work until 7 or 8 in the evening. Normally, Boruto and Himawari, Naruto's other child (who attended Sarutobi Elementary School), took the school bus home and were babysat by Konohamaru until Naruto returned.  However, due to today’s extraordinary circumstances, Shikamaru had insisted that Naruto take the rest of the day off so that he could go speak with the school dean and pick Boruto up himself.

Naruto was still smartly dressed in a suit, having not had time to change since leaving his workplace.  However, he knew that his state of dress was not the real reason why the school’s front desk receptionist immediately stood up and enthusiastically welcomed him when he walked through the doors.  Naruto’s electric blond locks and whiskered face were well-known and well-loved by Konoha’s citizens. Normally, he basked in the warmth and love of his people, but today, considering that the only reason he was here was because his son was in _fucking_ trouble, the receptionist’s endearment only served to annoy him.  He almost wished that she would glare at him and maybe even snipe at his poor parenting skills—almost assuredly the treatment any other parent would receive. It was no less than what Naruto felt he deserved. Naruto loved his kids dearly, but he had no actual idea of how to be their father.  Hinata, the perfect mother, would have known exactly what to do with Boruto in a situation like this.

Or would she have?  After all, Boruto had never gotten into a fight before...but regardless of how Hinata would have reacted, Naruto...had not even the slightest inkling of a clue what to do.

“Boruto’s waiting for you in the dean’s office.  It’s just down this hallway, through the double doors, then the seventh door to your left.  Would you like me to accompany you—“

“Don’t sweat it,” Naruto dismissed, trying his best to affix his fake smile on his face.  “I know where it is.”

The receptionist lady smiled and nodded. Naruto turned away and briskly walked towards the dean’s office.

The hallways were mostly silent, due to the fact that most of the staff and students had already gone home.  Which was why Naruto was able to hear the heated voices when he reached the end of the hallway.

“In addition to your unruly behavior, this is the third time this week you’ve violated the dress code, Mr. Sabaku!” 

Naruto frowned.  The dean was an unpleasant man named Mr. Shimura, but Naruto had never heard him speak with such harsh tones.  Naruto understood the need for strictness in the face of misbehavior, but he did not condone unkindness towards a child.

“Face paint isn’t a dress code violation,” a young, unfamiliar voice, presumably the aforementioned “Mr. Sabaku”, bit back.  Naruto raised his eyebrows. That was a distinct Suna accent. Was this the student that Boruto had gotten into a fight with?

“A long-sleeved shirt would very well be a dress-code violation if it served as a distraction to the other students.”

“My face paint didn’t 'distract' anybody.  Nobody even looks at, or talks to me.”  A pause. “Except for this imbecilic simpleton.”

“Hey, watch it, you bastard!”  Ah. There was Naruto’s lovely loud son.  

“Silence!” Mr. Shimura snapped. 

The door to the dean’s office was cracked open, just wide enough for Naruto to peer inside without being noticed by the room’s three occupants.  Naruto wondered at his own actions—why was he peeping like a spy?

Boruto was sitting closest to the door, holding an ice pack over his right eye, a massive pout on his face.  Next to him, sitting hunched with his elbows draped across his knees, was a boy Naruto didn’t recognize. His dark brown hair was styled with what looked like too much hair gel, and he was wearing a massive black trench coat that looked way too big on him. 

“Mr. Sabaku, you are henceforth forbidden from wearing face paint at this school," said Mr. Shimura.  "Unless you’d like to risk expulsion?”

Naruto was surprised. Surely _face paint_ didn’t warrant expulsion?

The Sabaku boy raised his head, and Naruto was able to clearly see his face for the first time.  True enough, he was wearing face paint—two crimson E’s facing inward that decorated his eyes all the way down to his chin.  Traditional Suna fashion. Still, the boy needed not paint his face to show off his desert heritage; he had the telltale pale skin, high cheekbones, and heavily-lidded eyes of the Sunanese. 

“My father personally applies war paint on my face every morning.  The likes of _you_ can’t take that away from me.”  The boy’s face remained expressionless, but Naruto could see the defiance and hurt simmering behind his painted eyes. 

“Then your father should understand that you do not come to school to go to war.  But I suppose he wouldn’t understand the difference, considering where he came from, and how he’s raised his son to act in school.”

Naruto cringed, recognizing the low blow.  He knew Mr. Shimura was a bigot if only because of his outspoken political views that contrasted sharply with Naruto’s open-door international policy, but Naruto never imagined the dean would sink so low as to take his prejudices out on a _student_.

Then, to Naruto’s disappointment, Boruto pointed rudely at the Sabaku boy’s face, and cried, “Yeah, your dad is a total whack if he even thinks that stupid makeup looks good on your stupid face!”

Naruto waited for Mr. Shimura to reprimand Boruto for the rude outburst...only to be met with silence. 

Not everyone from Suna wore face paint—it was a personal choice—but those who did wore it with their homeland’s pride, all the more symbolic since Suna was currently ravaged with civil war. Naruto knew that Boruto, Konoha born and bred all the way, didn’t realize how racist and offensive his comment had been. Children were ignorant, and could be jerks to each other sometimes. But he’d expected the adults in Boruto’s life to step in in the event of such insensitive mistakes being made...not sit around and let the prejudice grow.

Having witnessed enough, Naruto strode purposefully into the room.  “Hey, buddy, that wasn’t very nice,” he reprimanded his son, whose head snapped up in surprise and embarrassment. “That was petty and you know it. You shouldn’t say things like that.” Naruto watched with increasing curiosity as the Sabaku boy suddenly sat up, stiffening, looking towards the wall to avoid Naruto’s eyes. 

Pretending that he hadn’t heard Mr. Shimura’s comments about the boy’s face paint—which he privately decided really wasn’t all that offensive or distracting—Naruto smiled and offered, “I think you look cool.”

The Sabaku boy’s eyes suddenly swiveled to meet Naruto’s, wide with surprise.

“Daaaaad,” Boruto groaned, exasperated at the fact that his dad was actually complimenting the classmate he apparently had beef with, at the same time that Mr. Shimura cleared his throat and acknowledged, “Mr. Uzumaki.”

“Mr. Shimura!” Naruto greeted the dean.  “Hi, I’m so sorry I’m late. I came as soon as I could.  My little guy’s givin' you problems again, huh?”

“No worries,” Mr. Shimura said drily.  “You’re a busy man. Besides, Mr. Sabaku’s father hasn’t even arrived yet.”  He turned to the Sabaku boy. “Mr. Sabaku, this is Naruto Uzumaki, the mayor of Konoha,” the dean said, somehow sounding extremely patronizing.

Boruto groaned loudly, hating any reminder of who his father was.  Naruto, sensing the Sabaku boy's discomfort, stuck out his hand and grinned, “Just Naruto is fine.  Nice to meet ya!”

“I know who you are,” the boy mumbled darkly.  

“Heh,” Naruto chuckled nervously, awkwardly withdrawing his hand when it became evident that the boy was not planning to take it any time in the next ten years.  The tension in the air was thick, and Naruto silently cursed out Mr. Shimura for the unnecessary introduction. He was sure that the man had only done it to make the Sabaku boy feel bad, and Naruto did not appreciate being used as an intimidation technique.  Still, he didn’t want to bring it up and cause a scene in front of the kids, so he simply sat down in the empty chair next to Boruto and asked, “Would you mind filling me in on what happened?”

Mr. Shimura cleared his throat.  “Mr. Uzumaki, your son and Mr. Sabaku here were found exchanging physical blows in the courtyard when they were supposed to be in their sixth period class. Boruto insists that Mr. Sabaku followed him out of the classroom during a bathroom break and started the altercation. However, instead of seeking aid from one of the staff, he returned the blows.  They were found by Mr. Aburame when they failed to return to class after an extended period. Mr. Sabaku...has nothing to say for himself.”

Naruto chanced a glance at the Sabaku boy, and found his eyes burning with hatred at Mr. Shimura.  “Boruto Uzumaki was on his way to vandalize the teachers’ lounge,” the boy muttered.

“Hey, how dare you!  I just needed to do my business!” Boruto exclaimed, but the reddening of his face gave him away.

Mr. Shimura raised a brow at the Sabaku boy.  “Oh? Now you choose to talk?”

“Not like you would’ve believed me.”

“You don’t have the best record, Mr. Sabaku.”

“I’ve never done anything wrong!”

“H-hey, it’s okay!” Naruto quickly interrupted before Mr. Shimura could open his mouth again.  Even if the Sabaku boy was lying, even if he was completely in the wrong—that did _not_ justify the hateful glares and condescending tone that the dean was choosing to use on him.  Naruto was getting sick of it.  “Maybe it would be best to let the boys cool down. It’s bad enough they had to wait around after school for their stupid old dads.” Naruto internally berated himself for that comment; he’d meant it as a self-deprecating remark, but considering the pride with which he'd spoken of his father earlier, it was possible that the Sunanese boy might take offense. 

“Mr. Uzumaki, I cannot allow an offense to go unchecked,” Mr. Shimura said.

“I know.  I’m not expecting you to let them off completely.  But the boys are hurt and angry right now and I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunity to confront this in the future, right?” Before Mr. Shimura had the chance reply, Naruto quickly continued, “Boruto, let me see your eye.”

Boruto gave Naruto a long-suffering sideways glance; Naruto looked back unflinchingly.  Finally, with a dramatic sigh, the younger Uzumaki reluctantly peeled the ice pack off of his face.  The area around Boruto’s eye was red and swollen, and Naruto had been beaten up by Sasuke enough times during his youth to recognize that the eye would soon turn purple.  Oh, how Hinata would’ve fussed had she seen her son sporting a black eye…

“Hey, at least it’s just one side, right?” Naruto said.  “I remember when I was kid. Uncle Sasuke and I used to beat each other up all the time, that bast—uh, _jerk_.  One time he socked me good in both eyes and I couldn’t see properly for three days!”

Boruto deadpanned, unimpressed; he had, after all, heard his father regale this story dozens of times.  Mr. Shimura pursed his lips distastefully, but Naruto heard the Sabaku boy huff quietly with disbelief and...amusement?  Good, that meant Naruto was doing _something_ right.  “N-not that I approve of your actions,” he added hastily to Boruto.  “You should absolutely not take after my example and I’m disappointed in how you behaved, Boruto.  Boys are stupid and shouldn’t beat each other up. Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook; you and I are going to have a serious talk once we get home."

Boruto frowned deeply as he slapped the ice pack back onto his face.  He looked away from Naruto and mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Yeah right you will.”  Naruto cringed, but instead of addressing his son’s obvious displeasure, he turned to the Sabaku boy instead. “Hey,” he said as gently and inoffensively as he could muster.  “You okay? Injured anywhere? It’s best not to wait if you need an ice pack.”

I’m—” the boy hissed, recoiling.  But the sharp movement made him wince, and suddenly he was clutching a hand to his torso.  The horrendous trench coat hid whatever was underneath, but Naruto could guess that the boy’s ribs would probably be aching for days, if Boruto’s fighting punches were anything like his father’s.  “I’m fine,” the boy growled.

Naruto raised a brow, but understood a prepubescent boy’s foolish need to hide his own pain out of pride.  “I believe you, but just to be on the safe side—Mr. Shimura, could you get him an ice pack? Just so I feel better about it, y’know?”

Mr. Shimura looked between Naruto and the Sabaku boy. Then, without a hint of remorse in his eyes, he looked back at Naruto and coolly stated, “It’s a shame, but the nurse’s office is already closed.  Besides, Mr. Sabaku’s made it pretty clear that he’s fine.”

Naruto saw red for a fraction of a second, unable to believe that Mr. Shimura was unwilling to help an _obviously_ hurt child.  Even Boruto couldn’t help but look up with a bit of uncertainty at what Mr. Shimura had just said, although he didn’t say anything out loud. 

“It’s just an ice pack—” Naruto protested, “ _surely_ , in the cafeterias or something—”

“We shouldn’t have to be here for much longer, anyhow,” Mr. Shimura interrupted coldly.  “School's already long past out.  The sooner Mr. Sabaku’s father decides to show up, the sooner his son gets his ice pack.”

Naruto resists the tempting urge to give Mr. Shimura a black eye to match Boruto’s.  Instead, Naruto silently counted to ten, thanking his lucky stars for the lessons in diplomacy drilled into him by—well, basically everyone he knew, since he used to be the brashest, rudest fuck as a child. 

“I already told you, Father’s not coming,” the Sabaku boy mumbled.

“I’ve called your father and made him aware of the situation—” Mr. Shimura started.

“Yeah, but he didn’t say he’d come, did he?  I take the bus home, usually. Father doesn’t—” the boy hesitated—“drive.”

Naruto noted the small hiccup, and filed the observation away for later.  “Look,” Naruto interjected, rubbing his face tiredly. “Why don’t you just let us know what their punishment is going to be, and then I can take Mr. Sabaku home, okay?” At this moment, it suddenly occurred to Naruto that he didn’t even know the boy’s first name.  Oh well, he’d have to ask later.

“Dad!” Boruto half-shouted, half-whined, clearly not looking forward to sharing a ride with his newfound nemesis.

Mr. Shimura looked personally offended.  “Mr. Uzumaki, I appreciate the sentiment, but I can’t allow you to—”

“Can we _please_ just get this over with?” Naruto pleaded, finally allowing the impatience to seep into his voice.  “I’ve got places to be.” Not technically true, as Shikamaru had cleared his schedule for the rest of today, but for the sake of his own sanity he really needed to be anywhere but in the office of this infuriating man, sometime within the next few minutes.  “I _am_ , after all, a busy man.”

Mr. Shimura remains steely for another beat, but finally relents.  “One-week suspension,” Mr. Shimura said shortly, “is the typical penalty for violence on the school grounds.  However, considering that this is Boruto’s first infraction—”

“One week.  I understand,” Naruto cut in quickly.  He had no illusions that under normal circumstances, Mr. Shimura would not even consider reducing Boruto’s punishment, and was only doing so presently to further belittle the Sabaku boy—who would presumably receive no such special treatment.  Naruto thought that Boruto probably deserves the suspension anyway, and that he should share it fairly with his classmate.  “Thank you so much for your time, Mr. Shimura. I’ll have Boruto back after the week is up. Give me another call if there’s anything else you need. Boys?”

Mr. Shimura looked like he wanted to get the final word, but eventually pursed his lips and said nothing.  Boruto leapt out of his seat, obviously itching to get the hell out of the dean’s office.

The Sabaku boy stayed seated and silent.  He met Naruto’s eyes steadily, and even though his face was just as expressionless as before, Naruto could see confusion and a little bit of fear swimming amidst the rage and pain in his eyes.  The Uzumaki patriarch’s heart tore a little at the sight of such eyes in a boy so young, but forced himself to meet the conflicted, forest-green gaze with a friendly one.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly.

Finally, the boy slowly stood up.  He was good at masking his pain, but Naruto recognized from the way he was hunched over just slightly that his ribs were indeed throbbing.  Suddenly, Naruto wondered about the huge trench coat the boy was wearing. It was, after all, perfect for hiding any injuries. Remembering the slight hesitation in the boy’s voice when he’d brought up that his father didn’t drive, Naruto was suddenly overwhelmed with concern that the boy might be...mistreated.

Alarm bells continued to go off in Naruto’s head as he, Boruto, and the strange boy walked out of Mr. Shimura’s office in silence.  The boy had mentioned that his father personally applied his face paint every morning, hadn’t he? There had been respect and admiration in his voice when he’d said that...but it wasn’t uncommon for abused children to worship their guardians, especially if they saw said guardians as titans of strength.

They walked past the school receptionist.  “Bye, Boruto!” the woman said brightly, and Boruto puffed up his chest proudly as he waved her goodbye.  The receptionist very obviously did not acknowledge the Sabaku boy, and not for the first time today Naruto felt his eternal faith in humanity shrivel just a little.

When the unlikely trio finally exited the school’s front doors, Naruto grudgingly accepted the fact that whatever the Sabaku boy’s home life was like, there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.  Naruto had no proof, and interrogating the stoic child would obviously get him nowhere. The most he could do was attempt to endear himself to the boy for now.

Naruto shoved away thoughts that he was being a manipulative fuck by “tricking” the boy into trusting him.  He did genuinely want to be nice to the kid, okay?

“Hey,” Naruto said to him, causing the painted face to turn just the slightest bit in Naruto’s direction.  “If you have someone else you’d be more comfortable with taking you home, that’s fine too. I just had to get you two out of there—your dean is a fucking dick.”  Both Boruto and the Sabaku boy looked startled by Naruto’s vulgarity, but Naruto wasn't concerned about petty swears; he was more concerned that the boys would come to accept Mr. Shimura's racist behavior as acceptable. If anything warranted cussing in front of middle school kids, it was this.  “But I genuinely don’t mind giving you a ride. As long you don’t complain about my beautiful car, that is!” Naruto laughed, pointing at his orange baby.

 “That _thing_ is an abomination!” Boruto cried.

 “See, I get enough of _that_ from _my_ brat,” Naruto joked good-naturedly.

The Sabaku boy said nothing, merely glaring at said car as though it had insulted his family.  There was a long pause as he seemed to be internally debating something.

He sounded immensely displeased about it, but the boy finally mumbled, "The car is fine."  

 “Dude, you’re like the first person who’s ever said that.  I freaking love you already, kid.”

There was a messy pile of manila folders from Naruto’s work on the front passenger seat, so both boys were forced to clamber into the back together.  Naruto chuckled to himself as he observed the two of them plaster themselves against the opposite car doors, keeping as much distance between themselves as possible.  

Naruto asked the boy for his address, and after another long silence, the boy finally muttered the street and house number.  Naruto entered it into his GPS, raising his eyebrows when he saw what area it was located in. He wasn’t familiar with the exact neighborhood, but he knew that it was, in general, a very well-to-do area.  After all, it wasn’t too far from his own home, and the Uzumakis didn't do too badly themselves. The Sabaku boy had claimed that his father didn’t drive, and Naruto had automatically assumed that it was because their family couldn’t afford a car. But if the Sabakus could afford a house there, then a fucking Porsche should've been well within their budget.  

It would be a 20-minute drive from Alliance Middle, but only about 6-7 minutes from the Uzumaki house.  For some reason this closeness comforted Naruto, though he couldn’t fathom why. Naruto started his car and pulled out of the school parking lot.  For a few minutes, he contented himself with listening to the gentle hum of his car’s engine.

 “So, I never caught your name,” he remarked when the silence was getting to be too much, peering at the boy through his rearview mirror.  

 “Just call him Bastard,” Boruto said loudly.  

 The Sabaku boy’s eyes slid to Boruto, who pointedly avoided them by looking out the window.  

 “Boruto, I didn't ask for _your_ name,” Naruto sighed with a stern look at the blue eyes that matched his own.  

 “ _My_ name’s not certainly not Bastard!  Hmph!”

 “...It’s Sabaku,” the other boy said guardedly, when it became clear that Naruto was still waiting for an answer.

 “So...your name is Sabaku Sabaku?” Naruto asked, being annoying on purpose.

 The boy scowled.  “Shinki,” he finally relented.  

 “Shinki, huh?” Naruto smiled. “Shinki Sabaku.  I like it!”

 They drove in silence for several more minutes.  “In six hundred feet, turn left on Sarutobi Avenue,” the GPS droned in an automated female Kumo accent that Naruto had deliberately set to amuse Himawari.  His daughter said it reminded her of the way Chocho’s mom talked, even though Karui had lost most of her Kumo accent since moving to Konoha. “That’s Boruto’s sister’s school,” Naruto pointed out as they passed by Sarutobi Elementary.  Neither boy said anything, though Naruto saw Shinki look out the window in muted curiosity.

At the corner of the next stoplight was a convenience store.  Naruto turned inside, and parked at the first available parking space. Naruto saw Shinki straighten slightly, eyes widening as though in alarm.  

 “I’m dying for something cold,” Naruto explained. “You boys want anything to drink?”

 “Strawberry slushee,” Boruto piped up immediately, making Naruto roll his eyes.

 “Okay, and how about you, Shinki?  Don’t worry, I’m not gonna poison ya.”

 Shinki narrowed his eyes, as though seriously doubting that Naruto wouldn’t try to poison him.  “No,” the boy finally said.

Naruto shrugged, not pushing it.  “I’ll be back in a minute. No roughhousing while I’m gone, ‘kay?  No touching or kissing either. I _will_ know.”  Naruto laughed at their twin looks of alarm and embarrassment.  Ah, Sakura would have punched him for that joke if she were here.  Good thing she wasn’t.

Luckily for Naruto, the convenience store cashier was one of the few people who didn’t recognize him, or maybe just didn’t care.  Regardless, minimal conversation was made and in under five minutes, Naruto was out the door, holding two slushees—strawberry for Boruto and orange for himself—and an ice pack.  

He slid back into the driver’s seat, pleased to see that his son and Shinki had heeded his warning and not caused further physical damage to one another.  Naruto had barely held out the strawberry slushee when Boruto had already snatched it from his hand, taking no time to make loud slurping noises of delight. Shinki glared at him with thinly veiled disgust, obviously biting back a derisive remark.  Naruto suspected that his own presence was the very reason Shinki held his tongue.

“Here,” Naruto said, holding out the ice pack to Shinki, making Boruto pause his obnoxious sipping for a fraction of a second.

“I said I didn’t want anything,” Shinki said, sinking into his seat.

“No, you said you didn't want anything to _drink_ , because that's all I actually asked you,” Naruto corrected.  “So this doesn’t count. Unless you plan on opening the ice pack and sucking on the ice.  To which _I_ say: that’s nasty!  And potentially hazardous.  I dunno, do they make ice packs with normal water or some weird chemical stuff?  Still, why would you do that?”

Boruto somehow managed to groan in embarrassment while still sucking loudly on his slushee at the same time.  Shinki, though, continued to stare at the ice pack as though doing so would make it magically disappear.

“I already told you I’m fine,” he insisted unhappily.

“Then just keep it for the next time you and Boruto beat each other up, okay?”

Naruto’s arm was starting to get tired from holding the ice pack when Shinki finally accepted it with a muttered, “Whatever.”  Naruto smiled and pulled out of the convenience store parking lot to continue on the road to Shinki’s house, and after a few minutes of driving, Naruto caught Shinki subtly opening the buttons of his trench coat and holding the ice pack against his ribs.  He fought himself not to comment; he would surely only end up embarrassing the boy. Thankfully, Boruto kept silent as well, if only to avoid his father’s displeasure.

For the next ten minutes, Naruto kept the conversation alive, chattering about everything and nothing—his specialty.  He tried to keep off the topic of Boruto and Himawari, though, not sure how Shinki would take to hearing him prattle on about his own kids like an annoying dad.  Boruto was unusually silent, but Naruto decided not to call him out on it this time. Shinki, on the other hand, was about as conversational as a dead fish, but Naruto had plenty of experience with dead-fish conversationalists because of all the years he’d known Sasuke.  Still, even as Shinki stared intently out the window, Naruto had a feeling that the boy was listening. He insisted to himself that this was progress.

Naruto couldn’t help but grow quiet, however, as they pulled up to Shinki’s neighborhood.  Shinki didn’t live in a house, Naruto realized; the Sabakus lived in a neighborhood of _mansions_. Even Boruto stopped drinking his slushee to stare in awe at the ostentatious houses passing his car window. 

But the sizes of the residences would do nothing to soften the surprise of seeing House #56001 roll into view. 

The Sabaku home was either a crime scene or the most bizarre paint job Naruto had ever seen in his life.  There wasn’t a centimeter that wasn’t covered in dark red. Every inch of the house was generously, angrily lathered in paint.  It wasn’t a bright, offensive red, but rather the color of blood halfway between fresh crimson and dried burgundy. Even the windows were painted over, and Naruto couldn’t help but wonder if it was possible for its inhabitants to see outside them from the inside.  There was a fence surrounding the house, also painted red; instead of a grassy front lawn like its neighbors, there was sand, literally the only non-red thing on the property.

Naruto couldn’t imagine living in the vicinity of this house, much less inside it.  He strongly suspected that the neighboring houses were empty, and wouldn’t have been surprised if their previous occupants had purposefully moved because of their bizarre neighbor. 

“Wow,” Boruto gasped, and he was in too much awe and shock to make it sound like an insult.

Shinki said nothing, defiance blazing in his eyes.  It suddenly seemed very obvious that the color of his face paint matched his red house. 

Naruto, too, was too shocked by the sight to properly analyze how he felt about the house; however, he also realized that it would be way too obvious not to bring it up at all.  “Whoa, that’s cool, y’know!” he exclaimed. “I wish I could do that to our house—with orange, of course! But Boruto would never let me, ‘cause pink is his favorite color, y’know.”

Boruto was still too slack-jawed to even respond to Naruto’s obvious teasing.  Shinki, however, seemed surprised that Naruto was responding so positively, and for the first time since Naruto had met him, his face cleared of all negative emotion.

“Father says red keeps the demons out,” Shinki said.

Naruto opened his mouth to respond, but realized that for once, his brain had been robbed of words.  What did one say to such a thing? It was the most honest, personal thing Shinki seemed to have said all day, but at the same time it was the most abnormal.  Boruto was, at this point, too weirded out to even know what to respond, which Naruto considered a good thing. His son was not known for his sensitivity.

“Your dad sounds like a smart guy,” Naruto said at last, nodding.  Shinki said nothing, but the frown remained absent from his face.

Naruto parked in front of the house.  What a sight for the neighbors; a bright orange car and the big red mansion.  Naruto’s earlier concerns about Shinki’s home life returned to him, and if he was completely honest with himself, the mind boggling state of the Sabaku house was not doing anything to reassure him.  As Shinki put the ice pack away and began rebuttonning the front of his black coat, Naruto quickly rummaged for a piece of paper. He opened a random manila folder and saw a report for Konoha’s infrastructure budget.  Ah, whatever, he could make another copy of that later. He tore a off corner of it and scribbled, “ ** _Boruto’s dad_ :P**” and his cell phone number.

“I don’t know if Boruto told you, but it’s an Uzumaki tradition that if we beat someone up, that person becomes family!” Naruto said, handing the scrap of paper with his number to Shinki.  “So next time you want a ride or anything, maybe go bowling with us on a Saturday? Just give me a call anytime, okay?”

The confusion returned to Shinki’s eyes, but still the boy was not frowning.  “I...thank you,” he finally mumbled as he took the paper and stowed it in his pocket, pleasing Naruto with the positive reaction.

He hoped that the boy got the hidden meaning that if he ever needed _anything at any time_ , he could call Naruto.

“Want me to walk you to the door?” Naruto asked, hoping the boy would say yes.

But Shinki shook his head.  “No. Father is…” he trailed away.  Naruto waited for him to finish his sentence, but he never did.  Instead, the boy said, “Thank you, Mr. Uzumaki.” He bowed his head, surprising Naruto with the suddenly impeccable manners.

“It’s just Naruto.  Or Boruto’s dad,” Naruto corrected faintly.  “Say...hi to your dad, for me?”

Shinki got out of the car, and Naruto and Boruto stared intently as Shinki unlatched the gate of the fence and walked the sandy path to the front door.  He knocked instead of ringing the doorbell, and after just one knock the door flew open, revealing a thin, short person with red hair and red clothing. Naruto was starting to realize that red was a recurring theme.  With no hesitation, Shinki ran through the door towards the person and just as quickly, the door swung shut. The whole bizarre ordeal was over in five seconds, leaving the house looking quiet and undisturbed. It had all happened so fast that Naruto had not even the chance to catch whether the person behind the door was male or female—much less his or her face. 

“What...was that?” Boruto’s stunned voice finally broke the silence.

Deciding that he needed to get out of the Sabakus’ driveway before he was accused of loitering, Naruto started his car and drove away. 

“Something...different,” he replied.  At first, Naruto had assumed that the Sabakus were inherently different because of their Sunanese heritage.  However, he was starting to get the feeling that a different city of origin was the least of their...oddities.  

* * *

 Later that day, as Naruto was making new copies of the infrastructure report he’d torn, his cell phone rang in his pocket with an unfamiliar number.

“Naruto Uzumaki speaking,” he answered with shaking fingers and an almost shaking voice, heart hammering as he prepared to leap into action on behalf of the boy he had met earlier today.

But it was not the boy on the other side of the line.  “Th...thank you,” whispered a deep, raspy voice, before there was a _click_ and the line went dead. 


	2. Talking, And Also Not Talking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you who have read, bookmarked, left kudos, or commented on my measly little first chapter! It’s challenging writing Naruto (and Gaara, for that matter, although he hasn’t exactly shown up yet) as dads, but I’m hoping to stay as true to their characters as possible.
> 
> P.S. Those of you on tumblr, find me @yzy-sunagakure for unabashed worshipping of all things Suna-related.

On the morning of the first day of the suspension, Naruto realized that he would have to drop by at Alliance Middle to pick up Boruto’s schoolwork.  After all, missing class due to suspension did not mean that Boruto was exempt from completing assignments.

 

Which led Naruto to the realization that Shinki Sabaku, who had been suspended alongside Boruto for the same reasons, would be in a similar situation.  But if Shinki was to be believed, his father didn’t drive. Did the boy have a mother? Older siblings? Family friends who could swing by school to pick up his homework?  Naruto recalled the school staff’s racist attitudes towards Shinki, and then the bloody shade of the Sabaku home. He somehow doubted that the Sabakus had many, if any, acquaintances in Konoha.

 

Which was what led Naruto to dialing the number of the mysterious caller who had raspily whispered thank you to him the night before.  Naruto hadn’t been able to get those two words out of his head since.  Two words of courtesy that he and everyone else used on a daily basis...yet the caller had somehow breathed new meaning into them.  It’d sounded as though the person had never said them before. Or perhaps, that the person rarely spoke at all, so hoarse was his voice.  Of course, that could’ve just been the static over the phone call, Naruto couldn’t be too sure. The call itself had lasted less than 10 seconds, far too short for Naruto to be confident that it wasn’t all just a part of his imagination.  

 

He nearly forgot to breathe as he listened to the ringing tone, waiting for someone to pick up.  He didn’t understand why he was feeling this way. Naruto knew of people who suffered from phone anxiety—Hinata had been one of them—but Naruto himself had never experienced it.  

 

Maybe it was because it’d been far too long since Naruto had met anyone new.  He had a plethora of old friends and acquaintances that Sasuke liked to call the “Uzumaki Friendship Harem of Idiots” (never mind that Sasuke himself was part of it), but said “harem” had been around for years by now, and Naruto wore those friendships like a second skin.  Naruto didn’t know what would come of this new “acquaintanceship” with the Sabakus (if one could call it that—after all, Naruto had only ever met the boy, and he still had his suspicions about the mystery father), but he could feel that it would be something new and _different_.  Maybe he would help Boruto gain a new face-painted Sunanese friend; maybe Naruto would end up saving the child from an abusive parent—if he could find evidence for one, that is.  Who knew where this could end up.

 

As he pressed his phone closer to his ear, Naruto suddenly experienced a harrowing fear that the number he was calling wasn’t the Sabakus’ after all...who was to say the weird “thank you” last night wasn’t just a prank call, or a wrong number?  The caller hadn’t issued a greeting of any sort, or indicated who he was. Naruto had just assumed. Before he could truly dwell upon this doubt, the call was picked up. “Mr. Uzumaki…” said the answerer. “How can I help you?”

 

It was very clearly a suspicious-sounding Shinki, and not whoever had called to thank him the night before.  Naruto dismissed the confusing surge of half-relief, half-disappointment at the fact that it was the boy he was talking to, not the Raspy Whisperer.  Oh, well; if anything, this simply assured Naruto that should Shinki be in need of help sometime in the future, he would have access to the telephone.  

 

“Morning, Shinki!” Naruto said brightly.  “I hope I didn’t wake you up. How are you?”

 

There was a brief pause.  “Suspended,” the boy answered drily.

 

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that,” Naruto whined.  “C’mon, tell me. How’re you feeling?”

 

Another pause.  “I’m feeling ignorant.”

 

“Ignor—huh?  What?”

 

“Ignorant,” Shinki repeated, “because I’m the only one in this conversation who doesn’t know why you’re calling.”

 

Naruto couldn’t help but chuckle.  This kid was sharp, and more unashamedly sarcastic than Naruto would have expected.  “Okay, okay, fine. You don’t kid around, do you, kiddo? Alright, I just wanted to let you know that I’m on my way to Alliance to pick up Boruto’s schoolwork for this week.  If you want, I can pick up yours too and drop it off at your house.”

 

“I thought you were a busy man.”

 

“I am,” Naruto answered truthfully.  “But I have to go to Alliance for Boruto anyway, and your house isn’t far from ours, y’know.”

 

Shinki huffed quietly into the receiver.  “It’s not necessary. I can go pick it up later.”

 

“But…” Naruto protested, then bit his lip, trying to figure out how to not sound patronizing.  “Do you have a way to get there? I don’t know if the school bus will let you on since you’re...suspended…”

 

“They won’t,” Shinki answered curtly.  “I can take the train.”

 

“C’mon, Shinki...that’s not necessary.  Wouldn’t it be so much easier if I picked it up for you?  I promise it’s not an inconvenience.”

 

“Inconveniencing you is none of my concern,” the boy replied bluntly, and for a moment Naruto was stunned.  “I was the one who broke the rules, and as such I shall accept the consequences, necessary or not. I don’t need your coddling.”

 

Naruto was honestly shocked by how the boy was able to so easily admit to his own faults while still making it sound like an insult somehow.  “Look, kiddo, I’m not coddling you. Yeah, you made a mistake, but _suspension_ is your punishment, that’s _all_! Boruto’s in the same situation and _I’m_ not making _him_ take the train.”

 

Naruto immediately wanted to smack himself for saying that, because it’d sounded like he was implying something about Shinki’s father’s parenting.  Which...maybe he kinda was, but he hadn’t meant to be so obvious about it!

 

But to Naruto’s relief and slight confusion, Shinki huffed with amusement.  “I get it coming from Father,” he said, “but why would _you_ distrust the train?  You commissioned its construction.”

 

Naruto frowned, not sure what to make of Shinki’s comment about his father’s apparent distrust of the Thunder Train.  “That’s not what I—that wasn’t—my point wasn’t—“ Naruto struggled, before clamping his mouth shut, lest he put his foot in his mouth again.  It was a good thing Shinki hadn’t taken offense. Naruto obviously had nothing against the citywide rail itself, but he really wanted Shinki to accept his help for some reason.  After all, the notion of the foreign kid taking the train in the city all alone (because somehow Naruto doubted anyone would accompany him on the journey) seemed depressing.

 

Finally, Naruto exhaled and said in a more rational tone, “Look, even if you did take the train to school, wouldn’t you get in trouble for being on campus?  You _are_ suspended, after all.”

 

“I…”

 

Shinki trailed off, and Naruto smirked.  Finally, he’d backed the kid into a corner!   In reality, Naruto had no idea whether or not a student would get in trouble for showing up on campus whilst suspended if it was only for the purpose of picking up his work.  Again, Naruto ignored the twinge of guilt that he was manipulating a child. It didn’t matter because he was being nice, right?

 

Finally, Shinki sighed.  “I can see why you’re the mayor,” he mumbled, so quietly that Naruto barely heard it.  

 

“Aw, I’m flattered, kiddo!” Naruto exclaimed, even though he wasn’t sure whether Shinki had meant it sarcastically, or as a compliment.  “But do you wanna know a secret? I’m really just a naggy old dad! You’ll never meet a naggier one. No one can resist my nagging charms!”  He laughed obnoxiously. “I’ll stop by your house in 45 minutes, ‘kay?”

 

“Noted.”  

 

“See you s—“ Naruto began, but the dial tone was already ringing in his ear.  Clearly, the Sunanese boy did not desire to stay on the phone with Naruto any longer than absolutely necessary.  Naruto chuckled. Ah, boys.

 

“Who were you talking to?” Boruto’s voice interrupted his thoughts.  Naruto looked up to see his son standing in front of him with his arms crossed, vibrant blue eyes narrowed suspiciously.  The effect was somewhat ruined, however, by the purple bruising that set Boruto’s right eye at permanent half-mast—at least for the next couple of days.

 

Naruto raised an eyebrow at Boruto’s prying; usually, his son went out of his way to show how many shits he did not give about what his father was doing.  “...I could tell it wasn’t work-related,” Boruto added sourly in response to Naruto’s appraising look.

 

“You’re right, it wasn’t,” Naruto confirmed.  Then, slyly, he added, “Maaaaaybe I was setting you up on a date...with Sara—“

 

“Shut up, Dad!” Boruto cried, his face turning crimson with embarrassment.  

 

Naruto, unable to help himself, teased back, “Oh _son_ , you’re starting to look like a tomato there.  Doesn’t Sarada hate tomatoes? You better ease up or she’s not gonna want to go on that date with you!”

 

“I—you—ARGH!” Boruto screamed in frustration and humiliation.  “You WEREN’T talking to Sarada!” he finally accused.

 

“Oh?” Naruto smirked.  “And how are you so sure about that?”

 

“ _Because_ ,” Boruto said with deeply exaggerated tones, “Sarada has an early bird period, which means she’s already in class by now.  Besides, you don’t chuckle like that when you talk to Sarada. You only chuckle like that when you’re planning something stupid, and Sarada would never fall for your stupid tricks!”

 

Naruto wanted to tease his poor son even further about how he knew Sarada’s schedule so well, but decided to show him mercy for once.  Besides, he was genuinely curious. “When I chuckle like how?”

 

Boruto opened his mouth to answer, but before he had the chance to do so, there came a shout from another part of the house.  “Daddy!” Himawari called, “can you help me fix my ribbon?”

 

Boruto scoffed, but his eyes softened; he’d always had a soft spot for his little sister.  He returned to the kitchen table to finish his breakfast. Naruto smiled and went to help Himawari with her ribbon.  

 

After making sure his kids were fed, watered, and dressed, Naruto piled them into his bright orange car and set off for the day.  He had decided that for the duration of Boruto’s suspension, he would have to take his son to his work. As such, he also decided that he might as well drive Himawari to school this week as well, instead of having her take the bus as usual.  

 

After Hinata’s death, Naruto had fallen into the arrangement of having Granny Tsunade or Iruka-sensei babysit his kids if they needed to miss school for any reason, such as illness.  Konohamaru couldn’t during the day, since he had his own classes to attend. Kakashi-sensei had offered his assistance as well, but like hell Naruto was going to let that old perv around his kids without adult supervision!  

 

This time, though, Naruto was hesitant to reach out to Granny Tsunade or Iruka-sensei.  Their help would have been needed for the whole week, instead of just the odd day or two, and even though Naruto knew that neither of them would truly _mind_ , Naruto wanted to take personal responsibility this time.  Boruto had made a mistake, and Naruto wouldn’t go shucking off his responsibilities as a parent by dumping his moody boy in someone else’s hands.

 

For some reason, Shinki’s previous words about accepting the consequences of his own faults sans external coddling started floating around in Naruto’s head.   _Ugh, it’s not the same!_ he thought furiously.   _Besides, why would I take advice from a brat?!_

At first, Boruto had bitched and complained about having to accompany Naruto to his boring old job, instead insisting that he be allowed to stay home.  “I’m already _twelve_ , Daaaaad,” the Uzumaki youth had moaned, “I can stay at home during the day by myself   _just_ _fine_.”  But it was an option Naruto wouldn’t even begin to consider, and not only because there was a real danger that Boruto would waste all of the time without supervision playing on his Xbox.  Naruto also didn’t want Boruto to be left by himself in the big house where Hinata’s absence echoed loud and clear through the walls.

 

He had honestly no idea how well Boruto was coping.  His son—and daughter, for that matter—had always been closer to Hinata than to him.  Himawari had been devastated and near-inconsolable when they’d lost Hinata. It tore the new widower apart to see his little girl so broken and lost, but at the same time it was cleansing for Naruto to offer consolation to his daughter and vice versa.  He was good at confronting emotions head-on, and in openly seeking comfort from his friends and family.

 

But Boruto, for all that he looked like his father, dealt with emotions very differently.  Boruto had allowed himself few tears. For a while after the passing, he’d been standoffish and unpleasant, snapping at anyone who tried to talk to him—except for Sasuke.  Boruto spent many a night sleeping over at the Uchiha home during the first few weeks after Hinata’s loss; Sasuke _still_ wouldn’t tell Naruto what had happened there, if anything at all.  And when Boruto returned, he was new and improved, tough outer shell in place as he soldiered on.  Naruto had no idea whether his son had truly grieved while at Sasuke’s, or in private, or if his emotions were actually being bottled up inside, waiting to explode in an extremely messy fashion.  Hinata, who had been able to read people much better than her loud husband, probably would have been able to tell—but she wouldn’t be any help this time around, or any other time around, really.

 

Many of Naruto’s friends had worried that it would be painful for him to look at Himawari, whose midnight blue locks and pale complexion looked so much like his late wife’s.  Naruto himself had heard stories of grieving men and women shunning the children who resembled their dead spouses because of the painful reminder they served. But such was not the case for him.  Himawari was her own person, and seeing her beautiful, smiling face was, to Naruto, a happy and sacred testament to what a good mother Hinata had been. But it was when Naruto looked at a scowling Boruto that he was reminded of just how much damage Hinata’s departure had caused, was _still_ causing—damage that the powerful, respected mayor of Konoha had no idea how to fix.

 

In the end, Naruto told Boruto none of this.  The widower had instead put his foot down about not allowing Boruto to stay at home, telling his son to suck it up since the purpose of the suspension was for Boruto to pay for his sins at school, anyway, not to enjoy himself.  Boruto had continued to grumble underneath his breath, but Naruto caught the little smile playing on Boruto’s lips as the boy stomped off to his bedroom. Boruto was secretly happy that he would get to spend some time with his father at work, which made Naruto feel lousy; what kind of father was he if it took his son getting _suspended_ for them to spend a little time together?  And not even that, because while in the office Naruto would have little time or attention to spare his kid.

 

As Naruto’s car approached Sarutobi Elementary School, he realized that he had spent the car ride with Himawari and Boruto silent and lost in thought.  Thankfully, Himawari and Boruto both were chattery enough to compensate for their lack of input in the conversation, but Naruto felt another pang of guilt.  It was bad enough that he barely had the time to be physically present with his kids most of the time, and on the rare instance that he was, why couldn’t he separate himself from his own trouble long enough to be _mentally_ present?  Neither child seemed to question their father’s uncharacteristic silence, since they both knew that Naruto was not a morning person.  That didn’t make the blonde man feel any better about himself, though.

 

Naruto slowed down his car as was mandatory because of the reduced speed limits within 1,000 feet of any school--a regulation he himself had mandated because of one too many children killed by a reckless driver on their way to class.  He was prepared to turn into Sarutobi’s front driveway, but suddenly Himawari stopped him.

 

“Daddy, I can get off here,” his little fifth-grader said in her sweet little singsong voice.  “I can walk the rest of the way!”

 

“Aw, it’s okay, Hima.  Let Daddy drop you off in the front!  Unless you’re embarrassed about letting your friends see Daddy’s car.  C’mon, not you too, Himawari!  Daddy’s car is orange—like a big fancy pumpkin!  Don’t princesses like pumpkin carriages?”

 

Himawari giggled.  “But Daddy, your car looks less like a pumpkin and more like...oh, I know!  A weird, giant papaya! But, it’s okay, everyone already knows what your car looks like.  It’s just that if you drive all the way up to the front of the school, you’re gonna get stuck in really bad traffic because everyone is being dropped off at the same time, and then you’re gonna be late for work!”

 

“...Oh.”  For a moment, Naruto was touched by Himawari’s simple thoughtfulness.  “Okay, then, can Her Highness Princess Himawari give her humble servant a kiss before she goes?”

 

Himawari pursed her lips as though in thought.  “...Okay,” she finally relented. She leaned forward towards the driver’s seat.  “Muah!” She happily gave Naruto a kiss on the cheek.

 

“And one for His Grouchy Majesty too, maybe?” Naruto teased.  Himawari’s eyes lit up as she turned towards her brother, whose face purpled in horror.  

 

“Aw, no, Hima, don’t be gross—!” the boy struggled, but Himawari had already leaned over and placed a deliberately juicy kiss on her brother’s cheek.  Boruto made exaggerated gagging and coughing noises.

 

“Bye, Dad!  Bye, Your Grouchy Majesty!” Himawari sang happily as she slung her panda backpack over her shoulder and clambered out of the car.  

 

“Bye sweetheart!” Naruto called back just as Himawari slammed the car door shut after a final wave.  All too suddenly, the car was silent—with Himawari gone, Naruto was left alone with Boruto. When had things become so awkward with his eldest child?  Naruto hated it.

 

“Hmm, hmm,” Naruto hummed inanely as he watched the back of Himawari’s dark blue head disappear into the crowd of young students, trying to dispel the awkward silence in the car.  He turned his car around and headed in the direction of Alliance Middle School.

 

After a while, Naruto got tired of humming.  He opened his mouth a few times, trying to come up with a lighthearted comment to pass the time, but one look through the rearview mirror at Boruto’s sullen expression was enough to kill his mood.  Naruto heaved a sigh.

 

“Does your sister know what you did at school?” he finally asked his son.

 

“I didn’t do anything!” Boruto immediately protested.

 

“Boruto, if that were the case we wouldn’t be here, y’know—“

 

“I don’t see why you’re lecturing me!  All I did was kick that jerk’s ass!”

 

“But doesn’t that count as _doing_ something?”

 

“I…!  Well, why do you care so much?  Sabaku is a freak and a jerk.  You talk about how you used to beat up Uncle Sasuke all the time so—“

 

“Boruto—“

 

“—you should be the one to talk—“

 

“ _Boruto_!”

 

Boruto stopped abruptly, looking startled and a tad frightened at the sudden sharpness in Naruto’s tone.  Naruto noticed and flinched, clenching his fingers tightly around the steering wheel. He took a few deep breaths, ensuring that he could be level and calm when he next spoke.  

 

“All I wanted to know is whether or not your sister knows, Boruto.”

 

For a long time, Boruto didn’t say anything.  He simply crossed his arms and glared out the window.  Naruto sighed defeatedly as he tried to focus on the road.

 

“No,” Boruto mumbled, when Naruto was already pulling into Alliance Middle.  The school’s first period had already started, so Naruto was thankfully able to avoid the morning drop-off traffic.

 

“Huh?” Naruto asked, confused by Boruto’s answer out of context.

 

“Himawari knows I was...temporarily halted from going to school.  But I haven’t told her...why.”

 

Naruto parked his car in the first available parking spot, then turned around in his seat to face Boruto. “Didn’t she ask about your eye?”

 

“She thinks it was...P.E. gone wrong.”

 

Rock Lee, Alliance’s gym teacher, was Naruto’s old friend, and Boruto and Himawari knew him well even outside of school.  It wouldn’t be that far-fetched if Boruto had actually acquired an accidental injury in the over-enthusiastic Lee’s class.  “Do you plan on telling her the truth?” Naruto asked.

 

Boruto glared at Naruto.  “Aren’t you gonna make me?  Eventually?”

 

“No,” Naruto said simply.  “But I’m hoping you will do it on your own, because it would be the right thing to do, right?”

 

“Hmph,” Boruto harrumphed weakly, still trying to be stubborn. “‘It’s not like I did anything.”

 

Naruto realized that there was still a lot he needed to discuss with his son regarding his behavior and attitude, but decided to let the matter drop for now.  On the surface, Himawari’s ignorance didn’t seem like a big deal, but Naruto knew that if ever Boruto was proud of something, Himawari would be the first one he’d tell.  The Uzumaki boy _loved_ playing the heroic big brother role.  Boruto still seemed a long way from true repentance for his actions, but Naruto took it as a good sign that Boruto wasn’t _boasting_ about acts of aggression in school.

 

Naruto turned away from his son.  “I’m gonna run inside and grab your homework, ‘kay?”

 

“Whatever,” Boruto mumbled grumpily.

 

Naruto gave a watery smile.

 

* * *

 

 

“Wait, why are we coming here _again_?” Boruto yelled as Naruto turned into the neighborhood of mansions.  

 

“Because _someone_ has to,” Naruto seethed.  Whatever bit of good mood he’d had this morning had been dissolved by his encounter he’d just had with the school receptionist—the same smiling lady from the day before.  

 

She had, once again, greeted him warmly, with the disposition of a fan meeting her favorite celebrity instead of a school faculty member greeting the parent of misbehaving student.  

 

“Boruto’s a good kid,” she’d said as she placed a large folder with a post-it that read “Boruto Uzumaki - Makeup Work for Suspension” into Naruto’s arms.  “He’s just gotta be careful about the company he keeps. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

 

Naruto had forced a laugh.  “I think anyone can become a good friend if you give ‘em a chance, y’know?”  He hadn’t wanted to admit that the lady’s words had painfully reminded him of his own childhood, when _he_ was “that kid” parents and teachers considered bad company for the other children.  “Besides, I know what a little rascal Boruto is. If anything, I have to worry about other kids’ parents skinning my hide ‘cause my brat corrupted theirs with his mischief, y’know.  Sakura—er, my friend, whose daughter is Boruto’s friend—is always on my case about that kinda thing, y’know?”

 

“Ah, you mean Sarada, don’t you?  Yes, it’s a good thing she and your son are so close—Ms. Uchiha is a sweet girl: very good company.”  Naruto had winced again; it seemed the receptionist had not taken Naruto’s hint that _anyone_ could become a _good_ friend.  The woman had then continued, “I’m more worried about the student who fought Boruto yesterday.”

 

Naruto had internally noted that she had failed to include Boruto’s own complicity in the incident.  “Oh?” he had responded. “You mean Shinki?”

 

The receptionist had seemed taken aback that Naruto already knew the Sunanese student by name.  “...Yes, him,” she’d confirmed. “Do you know him, Mr. Uzumaki?”

 

“Not well, but he was mostly pretty polite.”

 

The receptionist had shaken her head as though in disappointment.  “That boy...if only he was like that all the time. I don’t mean to sound racist, l really don’t mind Sunanese people at all!  But...sometimes one can’t help but wonder how they raise their children.”

 

It had been very difficult for Naruto not to have a visible reaction to her statement—which had painfully contradicted itself, though the woman herself did not seem to realize this.  Naruto had praised himself for his self-control when he levelly said, “It may seem weird to us, but that’s their culture. I’m sure parents in Konoha could learn a lot from their Sunanese counterparts and vice versa, if we ever took the time to understand each other, y’know.”

 

“Yes, maybe…” the receptionist had replied, though she had looked unconvinced.  “But…” She had leaned in closer to Naruto, as though to impart something confidential.  “I wouldn’t normally talk about this with another parent, but I know you are good man, Mr. Uzumaki. If I were you, I’d be extremely wary of Boruto making friends with Shinki.  He only moved here recently, and even though I don’t know the details, it’s somewhat known around here that his parents had done something...questionable back in Suna that made them move here.  You didn’t see his father the day he came in to enroll Shinki as a new student. Barged in in the middle of the day...at lunchtime, no less! Dressed in strange clothes, and the way he behaved...was extremely unstable, proper one moment and aggressive the next.  Now that I think about it, it’s even possible that he was drunk. Dreadfully rude, too. Had he not shown up here for the very purpose of enrolling his son in school, I wouldn’t have doubted he was some kind of criminal...not a _father_.”  She’d looked up at Naruto with wide, earnest eyes.  “Of course, the school is doing everything we can for Shinki, but...with an upbringing like that, I don’t know how successful we’ll be in steering him in the right direction.  Boruto, on the other hand, is a bright kid who’s friendly with everyone, which is something I love to see, but he is the mayor’s son after all, and it might be worrisome if he allowed himself to be influenced by someone like _that boy_.”

 

Naruto had immediately given her a blinding grin, which most would probably have mistaken for the exuberant one so often worn by Konoha’s beloved mayor.  Only a close friend like Sasuke, Sakura, or Shikamaru would have been able to tell by the tightness at the corner of his lips and the shadow that made his eyes darken to an almost-ocean blue that Naruto had actually been trembling with an almost-explosive rage on the inside.  

 

Meanwhile, the woman continued to smile at Naruto, unawares.  The worst part about it was that not only had she seemed to hold no ounce of remorse for her words, but she’d seemed _proud_ of them too, as if she’d been entitled to everything she’d said and that her actions had been righteous.  

 

“Please don’t worry, Lady,” Naruto had finally responded tightly.  “Boruto is my son, and _I’m_ not worried that he’ll become friends with Shinki.”

 

“Oh, that’s good—“

 

“They seem to despise each other quite thoroughly, y’know, which is what worries me more.  But I’m trying my best to change that. In fact, before you started distracting me, I meant to ask for Shinki’s homework file too.”

 

The receptionist had finally seemed to catch on to Naruto’s displeasure.  “O-oh,” she’d stammered. “If you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Uzumaki, w-why—“

 

“Because I’m having Boruto deliver it to Shinki personally, because I’m hoping they become friends so that my son turns out _nothing like you_ , y’know?”  

 

Naruto had kept the wide grin on his face all the while saying this, and if that served to make the woman even more uncomfortable, _splendid_.  Her face had quickly turned purple as she spluttered in embarrassment.  

 

After a few uncomfortable moments during which Naruto stubbornly refused to change his expression, the lady had quickly turned away, shuffling nervously to the filing cabinet against the wall.  After a bit of searching, she’d pulled out a folder that looked identical to the one Naruto was already holding; the only difference was that the post-it read “Shinki Sabaku” instead of “Boruto Uzumaki”.  

 

“Here you go, Mr. Uzumaki,” she’d said demurely as she handed the folder to Naruto.  “I’m sorr—“

 

But Naruto had waved a dismissive hand and turned away wordlessly, not wanting to hear her meaningless apologies.  Naruto was not the one she should be apologizing to, and besides, Naruto _hated_ it when people pretended to apologize even though they didn’t understand what they’d done wrong.

 

He couldn’t decide who he disliked more: Dean Shimura, who was so unabashed about his prejudice that he would contempt to a child’s face, or the school receptionist, who was prejudiced without even being aware of it.

 

Boruto had moodily asked what had taken Naruto so long when Naruto returned to his car with the two files in his hands, but had otherwise remained silent as his father left Alliance and continued driving.  That is—until Naruto made the turn into the same expensive neighborhood they’d visited yesterday.

 

Boruto obviously wasn’t appeased by Naruto’s vague answer.  “What the f—heck, Dad? Isn’t it bad enough we had to come to this creepy place yesterday?”  The Sabaku home was still many houses away but it was already painfully obvious among its mundanely-colored neighbors, even from the Uzumakis’ considerable distance.  

 

Suddenly, Boruto’s eyes widened with realization and he punched the back of Naruto’s seat.  “Hold up! You were talking to _him_ earlier, weren’t you?  On the phone, when you were laughing all weirdly?”  To Naruto’s dismay, Boruto now looked not only angry, but hurt as well.  “This guy is a bastard! You know I wouldn’t fight with any random guy, Dad.  You—you don’t know him! You didn’t—hear the things he said. He’s just a—“

 

“—kid,” Naruto interrupted as firmly as he could, though his insides were churning uncomfortably at Boruto’s betrayed expression.  “Boruto, I admit I have no idea what happened between you two, but he’s just a kid, y’know. Like you. But he’s not from here, y’know?  I mean, I guess that’s pretty obvious, but because of that there are a lot of unfair things he’s having to face here in Konoha that have nothing to do with your fight with him.   _That’s_ why I’m doing this.  For Konoha, and for a young kid who’s not so different from you.”

 

“But—“

 

“ _Boruto_ ,” Naruto warned with finality in his tone.  They were nearing the diabolical red house now, and Naruto noticed a short figure standing behind the fence in front of the house.  “I know you don’t understand, but please don’t argue with me right now. I promise I’ll explain later.”

 

As Naruto parked the car, he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed that Shinki was already waiting for them outside the house.  There was a part of Naruto that had hoped for the chance to knock on the front door and look inside—and perhaps, catch a glimpse of the Raspy Whisperer.  But right after he thought it, he scoffed at his own ridiculousness.

 

The present Shinki looked mostly as he had the day before, except his dark brown hair was devoid of gel, making his natural spikes fall across his forehead and over his ears.  Interestingly, he was still sporting immaculate face paint in the same E designs as yesterday, and rather worryingly, he was still wearing that damn coat. Why? It wasn’t cold outside.  What was he hiding underneath it?

 

While Naruto took in the Sabaku boy’s appearance, Boruto was observing the house.  “When I said his dad was a whack,” the younger Uzumaki sneered loudly, “I didn’t realize how right I was.”

 

Naruto was eternally thankful that the car windows were shut, or Shinki may have heard Boruto’s rude comment.  Still, it was evident that the Sunanese child had seen Boruto’s lips moving even through the tinted glass, because his painted eyes narrowed suspiciously.  

 

Casting a pleading look at Boruto to keep his mouth shut, Naruto rolled down his own window and stuck his head out.  “Morning, kiddo,” he called to Shinki genuinely, feeling his bad mood dissipate just slightly. He glanced down at his watch.  It had been an hour since he’d called. “Sorry we’re late.”

 

“Not late by Sunanese standards,” the boy said simply, not moving from where he stood inside the fence, his expression inscrutable.  Naruto was about to ask what he meant, when he remembered there were differences in manners between Konoha and Suna. He remembered learning at one point that punctuality was actually considered _rude_ in the desert, which seemed completely bizarre to Naruto.  That would mean that Kakashi-sensei’s behavior would be considered _proper_ in Suna.  

 

“Anyway, I brought your homework,” Naruto continued.  “I have to admit, I don’t envy you boys. That looks like a lot of algebra problems and I’ll take boring paperwork over algebra any day!”  

 

Boruto still looked absolutely furious in the back seat of the car, while Shinki said nothing.  That left Naruto laughing awkwardly at his attempt at humor all by himself, and it quickly became awkward.  He decided to stop wasting time, because he really _did_ need to get to work anyway, and cleared his throat.

 

“Boruto, could you take Shinki’s folder to him please?” Naruto addressed his son.  He handed his boy said folder.

 

“Why me?” Boruto cried.  He looked scandalized.

 

 _Because I want you two to become friends_ , Naruto thought.  He didn’t dare voice this out loud, though, lest his son actually try to murder him in front of a witness.  “Because I’m lazy and don’t want to get out of the car.”

 

“I’ll come to you, Mr. Uzumaki—“ Shinki began, already beginning to unlatch the dark red gate of his house.  

 

But Boruto, not to be outdone by his nemesis, snatched the folder roughly out of his father’s hands and got out of the car.  He marched purposefully to the red fence and all but threw the folder at Shinki’s face. If Naruto hadn’t already known how upset Boruto was, he would have been appalled by his son’s ghastly rudeness.

 

Shinki barely moved, and with brilliant reflexes caught the folder in his hand before it smacked him in the face.  Despite Boruto’s display, nothing in the Sunanese boy’s body language or expression suggested that he was offended.  He instead met Boruto’s ferocious glare neutrally.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Uzumaki,” Shinki said after a moment, and even though he did not break eye contact with Boruto it was somehow obvious that he was actually addressing the Uzumaki patriarch.

 

“Uhh...anytime,” Naruto replied, a little nonplussed by the staring contest he was witnessing.

 

“You took such offense to the things I said,” Shinki then continued, but this time it was clear he was talking to Boruto.  “And yet you continue to prove me right.“

 

There was a beat.

 

“WHY YOU—“ Boruto snarled, fist raised to attack as he lunged toward the fence.  Shinki simply took a step backward, out of Boruto’s reach.

 

“BORUTO—“ Naruto called, alarmed and ready to leap out of the car.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you unclear about why Naruto was so pissed off by the school receptionist:
> 
> 1) As the mayor of Konoha, Naruto is working hard to dispel prejudice among his people. It frustrates him to no end when people continue to cling to their judgmental ways, and is even more incensed when that judgment is unfairly made to a child (Shinki, in this case). It reminds him too much of the torment he suffered during his own childhood.  
> 2) Naruto values fairness and justice. He hates that the receptionist lady is divulging information about another student’s background to him merely because he’s the mayor and she thinks he’s a “good man”. He’s also frustrated that she’s giving Boruto special treatment because of who his father is, because Naruto thinks Boruto should earn it, not be entitled to it.


	3. Something’s Going to Happen Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest problem about writinng multiple main characters of the same gender, is trying to figure how to make a distinction between who’s talking/thinking since everyone shares the same pronoun. I tried my best, but let me know if anything is confusing.

Boruto’s fist met thin air as Shinki stepped out of the way of the punch just in time, safely behind the fence of his home.  

 

Naruto had never seen his son in such an irascible state.  He wondered what it was about what Shinki had said that managed to make Boruto explode like a particularly volatile can of soda.  It looked as though Boruto were incapable of controlling his own body as he haphazardly aimed fiery fists at the Sunanese boy, who continued to stand motionlessly, just barely out of Boruto’s reach.  Boruto pushed himself up against the fence that was acting as a barrier between himself and his enemy, looking as though he were trying to bulldoze through it.

 

“Such lack of restraint,” Shinki commented, and despite the situation, his tone was enough to actually give Naruto pause.  Naruto could barely claim to know the Shinki at all, but he’d gathered from the few fleeting words they’d shared that Shinki was a restrained individual.  While Mr. Shimura had been unsubtly insulting the foreign boy the other day, Shinki’s eyes had spoken of doing multiple horrible things to the unpleasant dean, but otherwise, there’d been little outward display of aggression or hatred.  It wasn’t until _this_ very moment, listening to the undisguised judgment and condemnation in Shinki’s voice, that Naruto _truly_ realized that this was the kid who had _punched Boruto in the face hard enough to give him a black eye_.  

 

And Boruto was obviously trying to return the favor.  As he watched them, Naruto wondered whether Shinki’s ribs still ached.  “Shut up!” Boruto screamed, spit flying from his mouth. “You _shut up_!  Don’t pretend you’re so high and mighty just by standing there and doing nothing.  You’re just a freaking coward. Otherwise you would’ve come out here and faced me by now!”

 

Shinki eyed Boruto distastefully. Then he very purposefully turned away from Boruto.  “You’re not even worth facing,” Shinki said, glaring sideways at Boruto.

 

“Ha! Just admit that you don’t have the guts,” Boruto spat.  “You didn’t seem to have any problem until I kicked your ass yesterday.”

 

Defiance flared in Shinki’s eyes.  “And I don’t seem to recall you giving _yourself_ that black eye,” he said, voice slightly raised.  “Are you so eager to get another one? I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in granting such a favor.”

 

Boruto bristled.  “ _This_ ?” he gestured vaguely at his injured eye, “I _let_ you have this one—“

 

“Sure, in a place so obvious, one would have to be blind not to notice you’d—‘had your ass kicked’, as you so crudely put it.”

 

Boruto let out yet another cry of frustration and renewed his efforts against the fence as he tried to score a hit at Shinki.

 

Naruto had, by this time, finally unstuck his limbs and gotten out of the car.  “Boruto!” he yelled again. “Stop this. What do you think you’re doing? Get back here!”  

 

Boruto completely disregarded Naruto, but Shinki’s eyes flitted to Naruto’s face for a fraction of a second, expression inscrutable.

 

It was so strange to watch the two boys’ argument.  Naruto hadn’t witnessed fighting of this kind since...well, since his own childhood and teenage years.  Except back then, he’d rarely enjoyed such incidents as a spectator, since _he_ was usually the one fighting some random twerp, or _Sasuke_.  He knew from experience how difficult it was to extract oneself from the passion of a quarrel, so he had no idea what to do now to stop Boruto and Shinki.  A teenage Naruto would probably have encouraged the fight.

 

Naruto continued to call for Boruto to stop, getting louder and more desperate each time.  Finally, he realized that nothing he said would get Boruto to listen to him, and was already on his way over to his son to _bodily_ remove him from the fence when Shinki suddenly hissed loudly, “Would you two _please_ keep it down?” He sent a worried look back towards his house, and immediately Naruto was on edge, his fears about potential abuse in the Sabaku home renewed.

 

This made Boruto pause in the middle of his tirade.  The blonde boy glanced at his father, then at the red house, then back at Shinki.  A cruel smirk curled on Boruto’s lips. “Yeah, at least _my_ dad’s not a complete whack job,” he declared loudly and tactlessly. Sadly, it was the closest Boruto had come to complimenting Naruto in a long time.  “Is that why yours failed his driving test? Or are you so forgettable, that he forgot he had a kid who needed picking up?”

 

In one second, Shinki lost all semblance of restraint.  He dropped his homework folder onto the ground and his face twisted into an ugly scowl.  “You’re going to regret saying that,” he growled, green eyes flashing, fists clenched, his voice sounding every bit as intimidating as he looked.  

 

Frantically, Naruto grabbed Boruto by the scruff of the neck and pulled him backward just as Shinki prepared to lunge forward.  But then, the unlikely trio was interrupted.

 

The Sabakus’ front door made little sound when it swung open, and yet it might as well have been a booming cannon for all that its sudden opening made both Uzumakis jump, then freeze.  Shinki’s back was to the door, but he quickly noticed the two blondes’ reactions. He immediately dropped his fighting stance and turned around.

 

“Father,” the boy said calmly to the person in the doorway.

 

Boruto paled, and Naruto knew that it was because his son feared Shinki’s father had overheard his taunting, insulting words just seconds earlier.  Boruto was bold and rambunctious and sometimes rude with other kids his age, but he would rarely insult an adult to said adult’s face. Boruto was never quite sure how to act around grown-ups—barring people like Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, and Shikamaru, of course—because grown-ups tended to compare him to his mayor of a father, something Boruto both enjoyed and loathed.

 

“Shinki,” the person rasped in response, and Naruto had to hold back a gasp.  It...it was him! The caller, the Raspy Whisperer who had thanked him the previous night!  

 

Normally, Naruto didn’t have a good enough memory to identify someone by voice alone, especially if he had only ever heard that person over the phone.   Besides, as mayor, he met dozens of people every week: names, faces, and voices tended to blend together in his mind, and it was always up to Shikamaru to remind Naruto just who exactly he was talking to.  

 

But the growl in _this_ man’s voice was somehow impossible for Naruto to forget.  Its texture was even more gravelly in person than it had been over the phone, yet it was still smooth and fluid—not unlike sand, Naruto mused.  It engraved itself upon Naruto’s brain.

 

Conflicting feelings swirled in Naruto’s gut as he attempted to digest this sudden revelation.  So the Raspy Whisperer was Shinki’s father? _This_ guy? The guy who presumably painted the boy’s face every morning?  The one the annoying school receptionist had claimed to be offensive and possibly drunk?

 

The man was clutching the doorframe, as though for support, with a thin, bony hand that had skin as pale as his son’s.  Naruto was unable to detect any other resemblance between father and son, mostly because he couldn’t actually see the elder’s face.  His head was bowed, hiding his face from Naruto’s view while boasting a full mop of dark red hair.

 

And that hair...not only did Shinki’s not resemble it, but Naruto was pretty sure that few people in the _world_ had hair this color.  Konoha was home to a gene pool of more vibrant hair colors than the world’s other nations—for example, Naruto’s neon yellow or Sakura’s pink—while Suna natives had more earthy colors on their heads that blended well with the sandy tones of their arid homeland.  However, Shinki’s father’s hair would stand out in Konoha, Suna, Kiri, Iwa, _and_ Kumo.

 

Not that there weren’t any people with red hair in the world.  Naruto’s own mother had had red hair. So had that weird girl Sasuke used to date.  But theirs had been lighter, happier, shinier—like strawberry, cherry, or candy. Naruto stared at Shinki’s father’s bowed head: his hair looked damp even though it was dry; it looked like every strand had been meticulously dipped into blood, then sewed back onto his scalp and left to dry.  It stood out against his whitish skin just as much as his red house did this neighborhood. In fact, the man’s hair was the same color as his house, and for that matter, his clothes. Naruto doubted this was a coincidence.

 

Naruto became aware that his mouth was lolling open as he stared.  He quickly snapped it shut, then glanced around worriedly to see if anyone had noticed the loud sound that his teeth had made clacking together.  Fortunately, the two boys’ attention was absorbed by the redhead as well. The man himself hadn’t moved since suddenly appearing in the doorway. Naruto berated himself for overanalyzing the man’s hair as he just had; it wasn’t like he hadn’t before seen even more bizarre colors that teenagers these days liked to dye their ‘dos.  The only reason this had captured his attention so thoroughly was because his nerves were already frayed from all the hectic events of a single morning. Yes, that had to be it.

 

“I sensed a disturbance,” the Raspy Whisperer rasped, still not moving or lifting his head.  His Sunanese accent was thick and exotic. When he used that voice of his, it was really difficult for Naruto to remember that the man was, in fact, just a parent of Boruto’s classmate.  “Shinki, is there a problem?”

 

“No, Father,” Shinki replied, a bit too quickly.  “It’s Mr. Uzumaki. He was kind enough to deliver this week’s homework to me.”

 

Naruto stiffened.  Shinki’s hasty answer hadn’t escaped his notice, and Naruto couldn’t help but wonder what was making the Sunanese boy so uneasy.   _Just one sign_ , Naruto thought to himself as he fingered his cell phone in his pocket, _just one sign that this man mistreats his son, and I will call for intervention._

 

But no such sign came.  The Raspy Whisperer cocked his head slightly, though his face was still obscured from Naruto’s view.  “The one who brought you back to me yesterday?” he inquired.

 

“Yes, Father.”

 

“But the disturbance just now...it was loud,” the redhead said, a little more pressingly.  “Mr. Uzumaki was not loud over the phone last night.”

 

Shinki snorted. “It’s the one and the same man, Father.  People’s voices _are_ capable of fluctuation, you know.  I assure you...Mr. Uzumaki has quite the range.”

 

Naruto wasn’t sure whether or not to feel offended.  Sabaku father and son were talking about him as if he weren’t even there.  Even though they weren’t really _insulting_ him—that Naruto’s voice could be very loud was just a _fact_ , and he _had_ just been shouting at Boruto—it was still disconcerting to not be acknowledged by someone who was standing not too many feet away from him.  Shinki’s father was acting like he hadn’t even _noticed_ the presence of either Uzumaki.  Even so, Naruto found it even stranger that Shinki felt the need to inform his father that people’s voices...“fluctuated”?  Was the boy sassing his father with sarcasm, or did he genuinely think his father wouldn’t know something like that?

 

The bloody-haired man said nothing for a few moments as he processed what his son had just told him.  “Okay,” the man finally said. “But there were…two of them.”

 

“That’s because Mr. Uzumaki brought his son,” Shinki replied swiftly.

 

Boruto stiffened up at his mention, and opened and closed his mouth several times, as though he wanted to say something.  However, he ended saying nothing, perhaps feeling a bit too awkward about the unexpected situation. What did one say to the father of a boy you were trying to beat up, in front of his own house?  At a loss, Boruto looked up at his father uncertainly, but Naruto felt just as unconfident as Boruto at this moment. Naruto settled for placing a comforting hand on Boruto’s shoulder. Under normal circumstances, it would’ve been unheard of for Naruto to remain silent for so long in the midst of a conversation—but Sabaku father and son were having a rather fascinating discourse, and the mayor of Konoha didn’t want to interrupt.

 

The silence dragged on for even longer this time, and Naruto found himself anxious to know what the Raspy Whisperer thought about Boruto’s presence.  

 

“Why?” the man finally asked.

 

Shinki frowned, not knowing the answer.  Of course, the Sunanese boy could not have known that Naruto was on his way to work and that he was simply bringing Boruto along.  The blonde man was about to explain, but Shinki beat him to it. “I don’t know,” the boy said, shrugging.

 

And then the Raspy Whisperer said, “Are you sure?”

 

Naruto frowned; what did he mean by that?

 

And the man continued, his voice suddenly higher in pitch and more feverish, though still soft.  “There are tricksters who steal the skins of men, leaving their carcasses to the crows. The disguise is quite complete, but their duplicity causes them to feed on the souls their shells once knew.”  The Raspy Whisperer drew in a shaky breath. “You have to tell me, Shinki, so I can kill them.”

 

Naruto had not understood a single word of the strange soliloquy, but the words about carcasses and souls still disturbed him.  However, the moment the redhead said something about _killing_ someone, Naruto automatically went into a protective overdrive.  “Get in the car, Boruto,” he hissed, shoving Boruto behind him, prepared to use his own body as a shield for his son should the altercation turn violent.  

 

“Excuse me, are you Mr. Sabaku?” Naruto then said loudly, keeping all traces of fear and unease from his voice.  Murderers fed off the negative emotions of those they’d marked as prey, right? “I’m Mr. Uzumaki, but you can call me Naruto.  I promise we don’t mean trouble—we didn’t mean to disturb, and we were just on our way outta here—“

 

Here, Naruto glanced at Shinki.  He was prepared to grab the Sunanese boy and bring him to safety as well, should it come to that.  Would it be considered kidnapping if he were merely trying to remove a child from a dangerous situation?  Naruto swore to ask Shikamaru once he got back to his office—

 

The alarm bells in Naruto’s head came to an unceremonious halt as he observed that he and Shinki were obviously not on the same wavelength. There was unexpected tranquility and even a little bit of fondness in Shinki’s expression as he firmly said, “No, Father. There’s nothing to worry about.  Besides, red keeps the demons out, remember?”

 

Wait!  Wasn’t that the same thing Shinki had told Naruto the previous afternoon, when the latter had commented on the mansion’s paint job?

 

“Ah...you’re right,” the elder Sabaku replied, feverish pitch totally gone from his voice.  

 

And then, just as quickly as he had come, he disappeared, the front door of his house closing with a distinct _click_.  Naruto hadn’t even been able to get a clear view of his face, even once.

 

It was all so sudden that Naruto felt himself getting dizzy from a phantom whiplash.  He glanced behind him, only to realize that Boruto was still standing there, having not heeded his order to get back in the car.  But the look on his son’s face told that Boruto had been appropriately shocked as well.

 

Naruto turned back to Shinki.  The boy was leaning down to pick up the homework folder that he’d dropped on the sandy ground.  He stood up and looked Naruto in the eye. “Thanks for dropping this off,” he said. He offered no explanation of what had just gone down with his father.

 

“Uh…” Naruto stumbled for words.  “No biggie, kiddo. Anytime.”

 

Shinki closed his eyes and exhaled.  “Hopefully this will not happen again.”

 

“Uh…” Naruto couldn’t figure out what Shinki meant by “this.”  Getting suspended? Fighting with Boruto? Having a bizarre conversation with his redheaded father in front of the Uzumakis?

 

“Goodbye.”  Almost as swiftly as his father before him had done, Shinki turned around and disappeared through the front door of his home, the soft click once again echoing relentlessly through Naruto’s brain.

 

What in the _hell_ had just happened?  One moment, he had been sure that the Raspy Whisperer was threatening to murder him and Boruto, and that he would have to make the epic escape of a lifetime.  And in the next moment, thanks to some nonsensical reassurances from Shinki, the Sunanese father had disappeared, leaving the Uzumakis on the still and silent street, unacknowledged and unharmed.

 

Was it possible that Naruto was simply overreacting?  Had his hyperactive imagination gotten the better of him?   It sure as hell wasn’t normal for him to be so electrified by the sound of someone’s voice, or the color of someone’s hair.  Sure, the man had said something about killing, but he’d sounded more restless than threatening. And it wasn’t as if Naruto hadn’t been bombarded with angry “death threats” by Sasuke since the fifth grade.

 

Naruto finally concluded that the reason he was so worked up was because _children_ were involved in this entire debacle.  Naruto considered himself a fearless man, and that wasn’t just him being a arrogant cock. He had literally almost been mugged by a man twice his size at gunpoint once, only to to talk the would-be criminal out of the crime by offering said man a stable job.  Sunanese redheads who painted their mansions like a masochist’s blood-soaked fantasy and talked about tricksters and demons wouldn’t normally faze him. But he couldn’t say the same for Boruto, and certainly couldn’t say anything for the face-painted child he barely knew who had to _live_ with the Raspy Whisperer every day.  And if killing nonexistent tricksters and demons was the type of thing the Sabakus talked about in front of strangers, what exactly went on behind closed doors and painted windows?  

 

Though Naruto did have to admit, that despite all the talk of “sensing a disturbance” outside the house, not once had Shinki’s father acknowledged his presence.  Naruto wondered why this bothered him so much.

 

For the second time that morning, Naruto fingered the cell phone in his pocket.  If Shinki hadn’t somehow managed to dissolve the situation so quickly, the blonde man probably would have rashly called the police by now.  But Naruto hadn’t become mayor by brashness alone, and now his more rational side forced him to consider: what could the police have done? They wouldn’t have had much to go on other than Naruto’s shaky allegations about a “death threat”.  With no warrant, it wasn’t like the police could search the Sabaku home for evidence of illegal activity, either. And the only visible injury at the moment was Boruto’s black eye, but everyone present knew that that was old news. At most, the police officers would have laughed at their mayor’s characteristic hyperbolic reactions to mere trivialities. Then they would have left, and the feeble thread of trust Naruto had managed to forge with Shinki would have been irrevocably shattered. If Naruto was super unlucky, Sasuke would have been on the dispatched squad of officers, and Sasuke would later tell Sakura and then Naruto would never hear the end of this embarrassing fuckup.  

 

Reluctantly, Naruto let his phone drop in his pocket and withdrew his hand.   _Not today_ , he decided.  Even Naruto Uzumaki could be patient if he put his mind to it.  He didn’t know exactly what he was waiting for, if anything—after all, there was still the possibility that this entire thing since yesterday was just a huge overreaction on Naruto’s part—but he just had that _gut feeling_ that there was _something_ about the Sabakus that he needed to uncover, and that _something_ was going to happen in the near future.. And while Naruto wouldn’t deny that he often acted too impulsively on inconsequential whims, even his most practical of friends wouldn’t argue that Naruto’s gut instincts were almost always right.  

 

“Dad!”  Boruto’s voice shook him out of his thoughts.  “Can we please leave now?” his son asked, nervousness evident in his voice.  Naruto turned around and saw that while he had been musing to himself, Boruto had already returned to the car.  Funny how, just minutes ago, nothing Naruto said was able to convince Boruto to stop trying to clap Shinki in the face, and now it was Boruto trying to persuade Naruto to leave.  Boruto’s eyes moved anxiously between his father and the painted mansion.

 

Naruto sighed.  “Coming,” he said, unrooting himself from the spot he’d been standing in front of the now eerily quiet Sabaku home.  

 

He still hadn’t talked to Boruto about his behavior at school, and then this morning just _had_ to happen and complicate things even more.  Naruto glanced at his watch. And it looked like that conversation with Boruto was going to have to wait, because the moment he stepped foot into his office, he would be attacked by a tsunami of paperwork.  He was already more than halfway late for the first meeting of the day, and by the time he actually got there, the meeting would be over.

 

As Naruto thought about it, he realized that this was the first time he felt so... _uncaring_ about missing a meeting.  The last time he had done so was the day of Hinata’s funeral, and even then, he’d resumed his regular work schedule the very next day.  Boruto had been uncommonly furious with Naruto about that for some reason, but Naruto knew that to do otherwise would be to defile the memory of Hinata, since she had supported Naruto’s dream of becoming Konoha’s “best mayor ever” like none other.  

 

Were the Sabakus a good enough excuse for Naruto’s newfound dismissive attitude?

 

Still, Naruto knew that Shikamaru would be able to handle this meeting just fine on his own.  Though he wasn’t looking forward to Shikamaru’s quiet wrath and passive-aggressive nagging that was sure to haunt him for the rest of the day, or perhaps the entire week.  For all that Shikamaru complained about his wife’s nagging, Shikamaru, in his own way, was a pretty relentless nagger himself. Now that he thought about it, wasn’t Shikamaru’s wife, and also the mother of Shikadai, Sunanese as well?  She’d lived in Konoha for so long that her lack of accent made her heritage easy to forget.

 

As Naruto started his car and the bloody mansion became smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror, he childishly wondered what he had ever done to the Sunanese that made them all, whether directly or indirectly, out to get him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven’t yet noticed, I’m the micromanaging type of author. I micromanage the SHIT out of my story plots. As fascinating as it may be to read about the precise moment at which each character exhales and inhales, I understand that can sometimes bog down the plot and that reading stuff like this can get tedious. That’s why it’s up to YOU to let me know if I’m boring the souls out of your bodies. 
> 
> I delved deeper into Naruto’s thoughts in this chapter than I did the previous two—I realized after I finished that very little dialogue happened in almost 4,000 words. I’m hiding behind the excuse that this was Naruto and Gaara’s first official sort-of “meeting”—the plot’s not always going to move so slowly. 
> 
> The fact that this author’s note got to be so long is the exact proof of my point. PLEASE, let me hear your thoughts!!!!! I crave comments the way Chocho Akimichi craves anything edible.


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